Who We Are
by Unt0uChAbLe
Summary: Behind the witty comments and sultry smiles, young Tony and Ziva struggle to come to terms with their feelings for each other. AU- set in high school. Tiva, Jibbs, light McAbby, maybe some Kari. title is based on the song by Lifehouse
1. One

**(((Chapter 1)))**

Breathing in a deep breath of salty air, Ziva David released a sigh. The shaky, yet gentle release of oxygen would have gone unnoticed by most, yet the young man in the driver's seat beside her smiled a small grin.

"Don't look so gloomy, little sister," he commented, crawling the small, weathered Toyota to a stop beside the pavement, glistening white in the sun. "You have been invited by your lovely friends to, it seems—," he paused, offering a quick glance out the window, "—a palace."

"A seaside palace," Ziva murmured in agreement, her eyes widening as she gazed out the window over her brother's shoulder.

He snuck a small smile at his sister's ongoing stare of wonder and apprehension, before turning his head to examine the mansion in more detail.

"Well, at least the Scuito's have good taste," he said, rolling down his window to counter the glare of the summer sun. "A modern look, slanted and sleek, the white gloss and cherry wood counter the landscaping well… stunning. Double-paned windows and photovoltaic cells on the roof as well," he added. "Completely green."

Ziva nodded, her eyes scanning over the features. A third story balcony, fern trees wallowing over the open windows, a stone path curving around the extensive lawn, she even spotted a small statue of Buddha nestled on the patio. She smiled. Very Zen and also very Abby, she noted inwardly.

"And also very expensive…" he finished.

"Do not judge, Ari," she said, pulling her brows together in an irritated fashion.

"I'm an architect, little sister," he said, neither looking nor sounding apologetic. "It's my job to know these things. And besides… when you go to a school like yours, more than a few people will happen to have a beautiful coastal mansion that costs millions of dollars."

"I do not care what they have or what they do not have," she said testily, glaring out through the windshield. "Money does not make you any more privileged than anyone else."

"Unfortunately, little sister," Ari began, sounding perfectly assure of his words. "The rest of society is accustomed to the contrary."

"Perhaps in your world, Ari," she declared, looking over at her smug half-brother. "But my school does not hold the same virtues as you, luckily."

He chuckled, rolling his eyes, and opened the car door.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ziva."

Her own slam of the car door shut echoed Ari's and they stood together over the trunk of the rusted car, lifting her bags out.

"Your hands are shaking," Ari commented, watching as Ziva grasped the handle of the final bag.

"I am excited," she stated darkly, damning him in her head for his exasperating talent of noticing the tiniest details.

"Then don't act so intimidated," he countered, throwing an arm firmly around her shoulders as they waded the path across the lawn side by side, Ziva herself handling most of the bags.

"I am not intimidated," she replied, gritting her teeth. She clenched her fist more tightly around the handles, trying to halt its tremors. "It is only Abby."

Ari tipped his gold-plated shades upwards, sucking air in through his teeth as his eyes ventured over the house with an envious glint to them. His arm clutched Ziva closer.

"And only with her parents and a few other family members," he added close to her ear, smirking.

Ziva's skin bristled, her heart fluttering for a moment, as Ari strained his deep voice on the word _other_. They now stood together on the patio, facing the front door.

"Ready?" Ari mouthed soundlessly at her, grinning as he reached for the brass-colored doorknocker.

"The apple does not fall far from the stalk, Ari," she replied, finally mustering the wit to answer his earlier comment. "Abby is a perfectly—"

Her retort was interrupted as the door swung open abruptly. Standing there shirtless, stood a teenage boy, his mouth bulging full as he held a piece of half-eaten fruit in his hand.

"Hello," said Ari, his voice colored richly as he stared at the boy before him. He nudged Ziva discretely in the calf with his foot.

"Oh right," the teen said blandly and stared unabashedly at Ziva. "Forgot you were coming today. One sec."

He turned, leaving the door wide open in front of Ziva and Ari. A few loud yells and moments later, there was a rhythm of anxious feet bounding down the stairs.

"I'm guessing that's the cousin: Tony," said Ari offhandedly, leaning his hand on the coat rack beside the entrance to peer at the furnishings of the house.

"Yes," Ziva answered stormily, glaring at the spot where Tony's silhouette had been only moments before.

"He's a charmer," commented her brother, now peering upwards at the slope of the ceiling. "I can see why you like him so much."

As Ziva turned to hit him, a shriek came bellowing from the stairwell and moments later, the Israeli girl found herself throttled by a fierce hug.

Her dark pigtails bobbing up and down in front of Ziva's face, the girl squeezed her friend tightly, repeatedly squealing, "You're here! You're here! You're here…!"

Ziva smiled fondly, clasping her around the back.

"Yes, Abby, I'm here," she managed to say as the girl continued to grip her tighter and tighter. She began jumping up and down in excitement, still squealing, only to be anchored down by Ziva's still form.

"Fine," she said, pulling away reluctantly with a pout. "Don't jump with me, Ziva…" Soon, though, her grin spread across her face even wider than before and with one last exclamation, Abby embraced her friend again. "I'm so glad you're here, Ziva! We're going to have so much fun," she said, before pulling away and grabbing a completely unsuspecting Ari, into a welcoming hug as well.

Ari smiled, chuckling at Abby's infectious excitement and patted her head as she pulled away.

"Nice to see you again, too, Abby," he said. "Well, I probably should be getting back and leave you two to wreaking havoc on this lovely house."

As Abby pulled Ziva inside the entrance with her, she locked arms with the Israeli.

"Thank you, Ari," said Abby sincerely. "You're such a sweetheart for bringing Ziva down here—"

"Oh, he's really not," interjected Ziva.

"Don't worry, Abby," Ari replied, a half-playful tension buzzing between he and his sister. He eyed Ziva, his lips curving into his trademark smirk. "It is really not too far from the city."

He leaned forward, kissing his sister's forehead before she could escape.

"Be good, little sister," he winked, pulling back. "You know, I'm always watching."

"Bye Ari!" Abby called as the young Israeli man sauntered back to his car. "Nice to see you again!"

As Ari leaned down, barely fitting his sinewy form into the small confines of the car, he flashed Ziva one last conceited grin, his sunglasses concealing the sparkle of his dark lashes. For a moment, as Ziva watched her brother, she was reminded of the way Tony smirked at her across the English round table during seminars after he thought he had won one of their disagreements.

((((()))))

Saturdays at the market were always the busiest day of the week. Tenants moving in and out of their rentals always caused a flurry of traffic. Some stopped by the market to savor a few last minute souvenirs for the car ride home, and others came to gather ingredients for their first homemade dinner of the summer on the island. It was a day of commotion all through the streets. And located conveniently in the center of town, funneling all the tourism and activity straight to its net, was the market.

Though the weather was not particularly friendly to the well being of fresh fruits and vegetables, this Saturday had been particularly busy nonetheless. Locals woke early and still ventured to the stands in the early sunlight to graze over the top pick of the day, while latecomers were treated to the already grazed assortment of merchandise that had sat roasting in the afternoon sun.

"Excuse me, could you tell me what your prices for these peaches here are? The writing on the sign seems to have smudged."

Sitting up slowly in his chair, the merchant tipped his baseball cap from his eyes, his dozing interrupted by a clear, bell-like voice. A sleek, pretty woman with short red head was smiling expectantly in front of him. Well, perhaps he did have time to treat another customer…

"That'd be four dollars a bushel," the merchant replied with a toothy grin. The woman's lips tightened, forcing her smile to linger politely at the sight of his yellowing, chipped teeth. "How many would you like?"

"Oh, I haven't decided yet what exactly I'd like to buy. I'm trying to instill better eating habits on my nephew, but he's a stickler as to what he likes..." she paused, looking over her shoulder. "Jethro, what exactly do you think Tony would like as far as fruit? …Jethro?"

The merchant frowned. He peered sourly over the top of his stand to see a tall, handsome grey-haired man who had been wandering discretely through the stalls, look over at his lovely customer. This so-called Jethro raised his brows and gave a peculiar nod.

"Excuse me," the woman hedged. "I'll be right back."

Swiftly, she deserted the merchant's stand and approached the NCIS agent.

"What're you doing?" she demanded. "I thought you were going to help me pick out some food for Tony."

"No time, Jen," replied Jethro, heading hastily towards the corner of the block. Ignoring the red head's bewilderment, he swiped a newspaper from an unattended stand. "He'll be turning the corner any moment."

"Jethro…" Jenny began slowly. "What exactly are you going to do?"

"Ari's going to stop by the market for a little chat with me."

Jenny's frown deepened. Why did his each and every answer have to untie a whole other bundle of her questions?

"And what do you plan on saying to the man? You don't even know him."

Jethro smiled ambiguously, pulling a small pinch of a device from his pocket. He held it in front of Jenny's glowering eyes.

"This is a little present that needs to be delivered to Ari's girlfriend."

Jenny rolled her eyes and growled, "And what a perfect opportunity to deliver it to her…"

"See, I knew you were getting better at this, Jen. Now… if you'll just excuse me for a moment. Stay here."

Jethro batted Jenny's smaller form to the side, opened the newspaper, and deserted his companion, slipping flawlessly into the crowd.

"Jethro," Jenny hissed as she lost sight of him. But it was already too late. Agent Gibbs was not found unless he wanted to be. "Then why do you always follow him anyways?!" she responded under her breath to her own realization with yet another question.

It was only until she broke through the crowd and saw Jethro that she began to run.

"Jethro!"

He was at the corner of the sidewalk, appearing relaxed and harmless with the newspaper held up to his face. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed anything wrong. It was normal for a Long Islander to read up on the latest Giant's preseason news. But she knew better. It had been 3 years she had been stuck living with the man for God's sake. Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a die-hard Redskins fan. He wouldn't be caught dead reading a pro-Giant's page.

It was then she realized what her "husband" was going to do.

"Jethro, you really shouldn't do this," her voice escalated in warning. "Agent G—"

But she didn't reach him in time. Sure enough, here it came, just as Jethro said it would. Seconds before the smell of burnt rubber permeated the air and screeching tires screamed in her ears, she caught a glimpse of a little rusty Toyota, hurtling down the street. As she screamed at Jethro, it was already too late. He had already stepped out into the street, seemingly an oblivious pedestrian, right into the car's path.

If she hadn't been playing this game with him for the past three years, she would have feared for his safety. This time, Jenny just shook her head, palming her forehead as she heard a car door slam shut.

"What the hell were you thinking?! Stupid, old man… Bastard, you completely busted my tires!"

Besides the fuming driver, the customers from the market were all watching in disbelief. Some stared agog, their mouths hanging open. Others gasped in fear for the safety of the man who had just almost had his life taken. The red-haired woman, however, crossed her arms, watching intently as Jethro discretely removed his hand from the tire socket, relaxed his crouch, and stood. Even after almost being killed, the NCIS agent's nerve was not rattled in the least bit.

"Look, I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention at all. I know I shouldn't have crossed," Jethro offered a small smile, raising his hands in apology. "Call it a senior moment."

"You just cost me a shit load of money, you old fool. Watch where you're going next time."

As the young Israeli glared him down, Jethro straightened, letting his hands fall to his sides. Lost completely was his quirky charm.

"I wouldn't worry about it," replied Jethro, his blue eyes suddenly leering. "Pawn those Armani sunglasses and they should cover your fees quite sufficiently."

After a moment, Ari Haswari slid the sunglasses from his face, chuckling slightly. Meeting the ex-marine's eyes, his smirk disappeared as quickly as it had come and slowly, he approached Jethro.

"If we were in my country, old man," whispered Ari, his breath laced with smoke. Malice churned in his charcoal eyes. "You wouldn't still be breathing."

"Then, I'm sure glad we live in America," replied Jethro coolly.

The tension simmered a few moments more, and then settled. Ari gathered his lips into one last smirk and let a breath of his laughter graze the NCIS agent's face. Holding Jethro's gaze, the Israeli backed towards his car, his face a façade of satisfaction. The grey-haired man took one step aside, watching Ari's smile broaden as readjusted his glasses and gunned his car forward, jetting away down the street. Ask anyone who had witnessed the events in the market that afternoon, Ari Haswari was one departure from the island that wouldn't be missed.

Watching the smoke from Ari's throttle drift away, Jethro turned. As he made his way off the street, he ignored the stares he received from the crowd. Absolutely no one had the courage to confront him anyway. _Not even a round of applause in appreciation,_ he mused inwardly. But for all the fear Jethro aroused in the average person, Ari Haswari was different. He was certainly a worthy opponent.

"I'm guessing you placed the camera without difficulty," stated the red head as Jethro joined her.

"Yup."

"And he's actually Ziva's half-brother…"

"Yup."

"I wouldn't believe it if you hadn't told me…"

Jethro faced her, tucking his arm around hers.

"They have the same eyes, Jen," he said grimly.

"Ziva is nothing like him," Jenny retorted firmly.

"Oh my darling wife," Jethro murmured, his eyes glancing appreciatively at the beautiful blue sky. "You do trust too easily, I believe."

Jen snorted as he playfully tugged her closer.

"You never cease to point out my faults, Agent Gibbs," she agreed, her hazel eyes dancing mischievously. "Do tell me though, how in the world did _you _figure out that Ari's sunglasses were Armani?"

"Lucky guess," said Gibbs, his tone impeccable.

Jenny rolled her eyes.

"You, my _dear_ husband, have been spending way too much time around Tony."

((((()))))

"You're parents are not home as of now, I see."

Brushing the silk curtains aside with her fingertips, Ziva peered out into the backyard of the house. From her bedroom, she certainly had a grand view of things. Lush green grass surrounded a pearl-tiled pool, boarded by ash tiling and a scatter of arching willow trees, their fibers dipping slightly into the water. Before pulling away and letting the curtains fall, she even spied a small Jacuzzi tucked into the corner.

"No," said Abby, who had already opened Ziva's trunks and was busy sorting her clothes into the appropriate drawers. "Actually," she appeared from the bathroom with a flourishing smile. "They went to the market—there's a really neat open market on Saturdays, we'll have to take you— to get some food to prepare dinner. They're excited about you coming too, so they wanted to do something special for your arrival."

"Abby, they really shouldn't have. And you—you do not have to put my things away! Abby," Ziva groaned as the pig-tailed girl shushed her protests, "Please, I am only here for two weeks."

"And that doesn't mean you shouldn't feel perfectly at home, Zi," replied Abby. "Everyone's so excited that you're here," she smirked, adding. "Especially Tony."

Ziva snorted, trying and failing to sustain the blush that crept onto her cheeks.

"Don't be silly, Abby," she replied. "If he was truly excited to see me, he would not have answered the door in his boxers."

"Oh, you know, that's just how Tony shows his enthusiasm around girls."

"Our relationship—it is not like that. I will not be like any other girl to Tony, believe me."

Suddenly Abby let out a small gasp, clutching her heart dramatically. She flew towards Ziva and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"Oh, Ziva!" she murmured into the Israeli's shoulder, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm so glad you finally understand."

"What? What do I—"

"I just want to let you know I think it's a great idea. I'm totally behind you guys. I mean, God, for three years now all I can think about when I see you two together is how _cute_ it would be if you guys finally decided to stop denying what you have and actually give it a try. I mean—"

"Wait, hold on a moment…" Ziva quickly unlatched herself from Abby. She chuckled, smiling to mask her embarrassment. "I think you misunderstand me, Abby. What I mean—what I meant to say—"

Abby rolled her eyes as Ziva struggled to find the appropriate way to express her point. Why did she always make these things so difficult? The pig-tailed girl seated herself on the bed, looking quite the skeptic.

"Look," began Ziva stiffly. "Tony and I… We are just friends. And do not look at me like that, Abby! Since Tony began to refrain from his womanizing, I have tried to get him to open up to me. But each time I have made an attempt, he has just pulled away even further from me," With each word, she just grew more exasperated, her voice wary with regret. "And now, ever since this past winter, he has given me the icy shoulder. You cannot blame me if I am the least bit upset with him when he won't even tell me what I did to make him angry."

As the Israeli's pacing came to a halt beside the window, Abby smiled empathetically. Although she had discovered years ago that Ziva harbored affections for her cousin, she had seen their attraction to each other come full circle these past couple months at school. The tension between them, the words that were still unsaid, muddled every aspect of their interactions. It became so unbearable that they both ceased to function regularly around the other. Tony shrunk away from spending time with the Israeli, clearly in fear of his own feelings. Ziva, bemused and hurt at Tony's discrete yet intentional indifference to her, acted passive aggressive and childish towards him as a release to her frustration.

"Abby… I know I normally do not talk about these things, yet…" Ziva's tone was softer, vulnerable. "Please, give me any advice you can think of. I need to know what I should say, how I should act around Tony. I must stop whatever I am doing that is making him so uncomfortable… I would like these two weeks to be pleasant for everyone."

"Ziva…" Abby stood, giving her friend a gentle hug. She smiled to herself over Ziva's shoulder, "I think—"

The bedroom door clattered open abruptly. Mid-hug, both Abby and Ziva turned to see a young man with honey-colored hair peek around the bend of the entrance.

"Yo," he said. "Uncle G's back. He wants us all down… stairs…"

The words leaked slowly out of Tony's mouth as he saw Abby and Ziva's embrace. His lips trembled, begging his muscles to let them creep into a smirk. His mouth opened and then closed again, the witty comment sinking back down into his throat. He felt the burn of her gaze singe his skin and all the confidence he had mustered seemed to wilt to the ground.

"Oh Ziva…" Abby murmured, as the Israeli deftly locked her ankles around her waist. The entwined couple teetered before pinning themselves against the wall before an apoplectic Tony. "Tony, can't you see that you're interrupting our play time?"

"Yess," purred Ziva, letting her warm breath fan Abby's face. "Let's just ignore him… You do not mind if he observes, no?"

"Of course not. You know I'm always open to visitors."

Ziva smiled, flicking her eyes toward Tony, before she slowly ran her nose along the skin of Abby's neck. She opened her mouth, diving at the supple skin of the goth's collarbone and—

"Stop," Tony commanded, his voice void of humor. He stood tall in the doorframe, his face red and blushing, his hazel eyes determinedly staring straight past the two now snickering girls. "Quit it, alright? Funny time's over."

Ziva resurfaced from her laughter first.

"And here I was Tony, waiting for your 'girl on girl' comment."

Unable to resist the challenge, Tony summoned the strength to look upon her smirking face. God, with each step that she came closer to him, he found it more and more difficult to stop himself from grabbing her and quelling that stupid smirk whatever way he could. He wasn't sure whether his cheeks were stained red from embarrassment or from fury. Somewhere in the depths of his chest, there was a monster roaring at the thought that Ziva could ever embrace anyone else like that…

"Nice to see you again too, Zee-vah," he replied.

"You do know, Tony," she was still smug all over her face. "That this is the second time I have made you go—oh what is the phrase?—beet red. Remember the first time? Freshmen year English class, Romeo and Juliet?"

She briefly touched his shoulder, her dark eyes dancing dangerous and all too alluring.

"No, actually, I don't," he answered, his voice black and crisp.

His response only roused another sweet chuckle from her lips. The monster crooned and whimpered softly.

"Your left eyebrow twitches when you lie," she gave his shoulder an apologetic pat and wondered past him out of the bedroom.

Tony gritted his teeth, letting his eyes circle the room. He listened as Ziva's footsteps faded into the distance before rounding on his cousin.

"That was not funny," he hissed.

"Aww, I'm sorry," Abby answered sincerely. Her face fell slightly at the sight of Tony's stormy features. "You need a hug. Will you let me hug you?"

Before he could speak a reply, Abby threw her arms around his neck, forcing the answer from his mouth in a breathy cough. Tony patted his cousin's back, frowning.

"You're making it very hard for me to accept this hug on good terms, Abby," said Tony, his voice slightly strained from lack of air.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I promise never to let Ziva jump me ever again."

Tony allowed himself a small smile, all the while trying to drive any fleeting remnants of jealously from his mind.

Meanwhile, on the other side of Tony's shoulder, his cousin was grinning slightly as well. Never before had she seen Tony become so flustered, his mood so painfully sour. Usually he did well hiding behind a façade of jokes and charming smiles, but Ziva so easily brought out something more raw and much more sincere. Abby thought back to Ziva's plea for her help just some moments ago, when her friend had asked how she should act around Tony. Really, there was nothing she could do. For Ziva, it didn't take any special ingredient to drive Tony crazy.

She just had to be herself.

((((()))))

**a/n: Hey fellow NCIS fans. Thanks so much for taking the time to read the first chapter of this story! =)**

**I have to admit, I'm a new fan to the show. I've only been watching for about 6 months, but I'm addicted none-the-less. Since watching Aliyah, I've been so frustrated at the idea of having to wait so long for a resolution to the Tony and Ziva conflict. I struggled to conjure up any good post-Aliyah plots, so I drew the conflict back to a setting that's much more familiar to me—high school. Currently, next fall, I'm going to be a sophomore, so all the experiences are fresh in my mind. On the scale of things, I know I'm a rather younger fan of the show, I guess, but I hope that some other teens/fans my age can relate well to this story. So thank you to everyone who is considering following my first venture into the world of NCIS fanfiction. Reviews are love. =)**


	2. Two

**(((Chapter 2)))**

Back in Israel, Ziva was considered to be a pretty girl.

A sleek and curvy build, a spray of dark curls clustered around her face, smoldering, intense dark eyes, and a clear complexion—a natural beauty. But since she had come to America, Ziva sometimes worried that here she might not be considered pretty at all.

Boys here were taught to chase after girls who pasted their cheeks with spray tan, who spent twenty minutes in the morning curling their eyelashes, who excused themselves to the bathroom in the middle of classes to apply more lipgloss. Girls who spent every waking moment preening themselves in preparation for the eyes of the opposite sex. As frustrating and infuriating as it was, Ziva couldn't help but begin to doubt herself.

Perhaps three thousand miles across the Atlantic, they really did value something different when it came to physical beauty.

So as she sat in front of the mirror before dinner, examining her reflection, she decided that preening herself for Tony tonight would make her a complete hypocrite. Hadn't she declared to Abby just hours before that she would "not be like any other girl to him?" So before she bounded down the stairs into the kitchen to inquire whether she could be of any assistance to Jenny in the kitchen, she tackled her curls into a bun, leaving only a few dark threads framing her face on either side.

It was less… desperate, she quickly had decided. And more controlled.

Because there was absolutely nothing that Ziva David hated more than feeling out of control.

(((((())))))

It was well known by all seasoned New Yorkers that any trip taken between the hours of five to six-thirty PM through Queens was doomed to be an unpleasant one. It was a most frustrating time being that even the most devious shortcuts, ones mapped by the most artful of New York's cabbies, became absolutely clogged with commuters shortly after the hour.

After only three years of living in the city, Ari arrogantly assumed himself privy to this information. After all, with his contacts… He smirked, leaning back in his chair as the nose of his Toyota nudged the car in front. Well, lets just say they could be quite persuasive when it came to revealing information.

The Israeli inhaled a breath of sooty air. This was going to be quite a while.

His lungs parched, titillated by the lovely burn of exhaust, Ari opened the flap next to the stereo and retrieved a cigar. He smiled to himself, enjoying the rare, pricy treat. He let the fumes settle in his lungs, before spilling the smoke back into the air. It wasn't as if he could enjoy these pleasures around Ziva or… It would draw too much attention to the question of how he could afford such things. Especially after father had disowned him.

Ari scoffed. His father, the bastard… Come to think of it… He squinted, his dark gaze traveling along the long line of cars before him. The man he met while driving off the island today. The man who walked out right in front of his speeding car at the market square. The man who had the arrogance to dare, he, Ari Haswari, into killing him.

Jerking forward, Ari slammed his fist onto the horn of his car, sending a harsh blast of noise screeching through the air.

That bastard reminded him of his father.

(((((())))))

Since her arrival in high school, the Headmistress had always been a person that Ziva admired greatly. She was a woman who was greatly respected by the faculty and students alike. Not only was she a detailed and fair administrator, but she was a woman who was smart, witty and classy. The Headmistress had not only accomplished quite an impressive career, but domestically she had also settled down into her 2nd marriage three years previously with one handsome, charming Leroy Jethro Gibbs. And from not only what Ziva observed, but from what she had heard from Abby, they were a perfectly suited couple. Jenny Shepard was everything that, in 25 years, Ziva aspired to be.

"Excuse me," Ziva began, standing in the doorframe of the kitchen. "Headmistress Shepard, is there anything that I can help you with as far as dinner? I would appreciate it if you would let me assist you in some way. I really hate feeling useless."

Jenny turned from the counter, flicking excess water from her fingertips. A colorful, yet still unfinished salad lay upon the cutting board.

"Oh, you have no need to remind me of that, Ziva," she chuckled. "For the past three years, your advisor has come running to me, begging me to wrestle with your schedule because she has no idea how to fit all your classes together.

Ziva feigned embarrassment, though she had been schooled to have nothing but pride for her abilities in academics.

"And I would send you out to nag Jethro about not burning the hotdogs into crisps like he always does… But I think you and I should make a little agreement first.

Ziva met the Headmistress's gaze and was surprised at what she saw. Expecting her features to match her business-like tone, the Israeli's eyes widened at Jenny's soft expression.

"As long as you're here Ziva, there's no need for any formalities between us. We're both on vacation. For two weeks, at least, I'm no longer your Headmistress. You can think of me, well, as Abby's step mother," she hesitated on the last part, adding it grudgingly. "That doesn't make me sound old, does it?"

"Of course not," Ziva smiled, pleased to hear Jenny's confiding whisper.

"Good," she replied. "Now go tell Jethro that if he dares to shrivel those hotdogs up into burnt French fries, he's going to be sorry."

(((((())))))

Usually, he found that the hardest thing to draw about a person's face was the lips. How to curve the arch of the bow, the shading in the creases… It was quite an expressive, intimate place to depict.

But for Ziva, it was always the eyes. No matter how many times he characterized them, they never seemed right. In person, they were so alluring, tempting, and irresistible… It was a trait that on canvas, he never seemed able to apply in its full beauty. As he smeared his thumb over the charcoal on his latest portrait, feelings of that familiar frustration rekindled within him.

Tony tore his gaze away from the canvas on his lap, forcing himself to stare out the window, watching the smoke from the grill drift lazily into the air.

"Stupid Kate," he muttered, frustration tethered to his voice in a low growl. This talent, this stupid hobby that had grown upon him because of her was now something like a cancer.

Because for a while now, he had no desire to draw anything but Ziva.

It was a problem that found a way to smack him, no matter which direction he tried to run. Every time they were together it was oil to an already raging fire. She was before him, irresistible and utterly not his. She would go and leave him clinging to his pencil and paper. And each time he tried to capture her for himself on his canvases, he fell miserably short, desperately longing for the real thing.

(((((())))))

**a/n: Hey again everybody! Thanks for reading the second entry. Although this is pretty much a filler chapter, I'm trying to flesh out everyone's characters a little more. You learn here some tidbits about Jenny and Tony, some insight into Ziva's character as well. Funny though, I find Ari the easiest to write! =) I really wish we got to see more of his interaction with his sister in the show, but aw well. Guess it wasn't meant to be! **

**Anyways, the other reason this is a little bit of a fill is because I would like some opinions of people who are following the story. Would you like me too update quicker/faster with less words (you'll notice this chapter is much shorter than the first) or would you like me to expand more and give longer chapters between updates? As a writer, I'm leaning towards the former… but just let me know! Reviews are love 3 (my one comment is that I found this chapter a little more poetic than the first... agree?)**


	3. Three

((((((Chapter 3))))))

Five minutes in, Ziva decided that sitting across from Tony at the dinner table had been a mistake.

It gave a new definition to the word awkward. Even the usually verbose Tony, who admittedly hadn't acted normal around her for months, was unusually silent.

Heck, breathing the same air as him made her feel uncomfortable. Therefore, talking at a table full of the leering eyes of adults, banned from acting out their usual banter, was out of the question.

As Ziva punched at the lettuce in her salad with her fork, she tried to focus on understanding Abby's strange, yet conversational ramblings that had not ceased since dinner had begun. And not focusing on the fact that if she moved her calf just a wee-bit to her left under the table, it would graze Tony's… She swallowed. A mistake indeed.

"And get this Gibbs," Abby said, her voice lifting in excitement. "You know that Timmy's coming on Wednesday, right? Well, _if_ it's okay with you, I was thinking—"

"Whoa," Tony suddenly broke the chatter, loudly dropping his fork to his plate. It was the first word he had spoken the whole time. Feigning shock, he clasped his heart. "The McGoo is going to grace me with his presence? Abby!" He hissed. "I thought you would've given me more time to prepare for my beloved Mc—"

"Tony," Jenny scolded. "Not at the dinner table."

Tony looked to Gibbs for aid, only to find the same withering gaze. He raised his hands dejectedly.

"Okay, jeesh. Just trying to… ya know," he looked here at Ziva pointedly, his voice scalding harshly. "_Lighten up the mood_."

Their eyes clashed briefly, awkwardly, before Tony flicked his away, frowning moodily. Ziva stared apoplectically right at his face. Her eyes and voice were scathing with anger.

"Is there something you would like to say to me, Tony?"

"Nothing, Zee-vah."

Again, their eyes met and searched, furtively pleading to understand the other. Both were blind, stymied by layers of anger and frustration.

Huffing indignantly, Ziva looked away as Abby began again. She felt Tony studying her face and her palms beginning to sweat. She inwardly cursed her hormones, pretending to be interested in Abby's description of her plans with McGee for next weekend. But… if Abby was going to spend next weekend with McGee, that would mean that… she would have to spend time, alone, with Tony?

She fought her eyes from wandering to him, squinting and trying to focus on Abby's rapidly moving lips.

"You can come if you'd like Ziva. Unearthed Corpse is such a great band. I even got Gibbs to admit that they really—"

Ziva heard herself interrupting and politely declining the invitation and in the next moment, Tony doing the same.

Abby pouted, swapping her gaze between both Ziva and Tony.

"You guys don't like hanging around with me and McGee anymore?"

"Of course not, Abby. I would not want to interrupt you spending time with your boyfriend, that is all. I like McGee very much, it is just that—"

"Really? You like McGee 'very much'?" Tony imitated the lilt of Ziva's accent quite skillfully and they found the excuse to look at each other again. "Really, Ziva, I thought you would've gone more for Abby's ex, you know, that guy Chip. Minus the tats, piercings, and you know that black guy-liner stuff that he used on his eyes, he kind of resembles…"

He trailed off softly here; satisfied in knowing that he had gotten to her. Ziva leered at him from across the table, those perfect lips open, indignant, and inviting. She looked ready to launch herself at him and Tony conceded to his ego that sex unfortunately, probably wasn't the motive.

Somehow, to his incredible disappointment, she managed to restrain herself. She flicked her gaze away unceremoniously and said nothing.

As Ziva straightened herself in her chair, resolving to stay calm at least until the end of dinner, everyone managed to finish their salads and grilled veggies without attacking each other. Jenny clarified the location of towels and linens in the house, explaining briefly that anything that Ziva might need was at her disposal, while Abby insisted on taking her friend to the most notorious shopping spots the following day. Gibbs entertained the Israeli by explaining, when prompted by Jenny, about his interest in woodworking. He suggested that Tony should take her out canoeing into the bay, as it was quite pretty this time of the season. The most interesting bit, of course, was Tony's unenthusiastic response to Gibbs' suggestion. Ziva smirked smugly as Jenny threatened that she was "growing tired of his hostile tone…"

It was only until Tony was midway through his second hotdog that he saw another opportunity to attack. It was just too good to resist.

"Ziva, I really like what you've done with your hair this evening," Jenny sweetly offered her guest a compliment. "It's a really nice mature look for you."

Ziva couldn't stop herself from beaming, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ears.

"Really?" Tony inquired, eyes glinting brightly. "Because I disagree. Gathering your hair into that tangled mat at the back of your neck, sure, it makes you look older, but it's less fun if you ask me. And aren't teens supposed to be fun?"

His language was borderline. At first, Ziva couldn't decide if it was rude or a complimentary, honest opinion. But the way his eyes gleamed, his lips pressed together smugly, she concluded that it was perfectly and intentionally taunting.

"Tony," she announced, rising from her seat with a candied smile. "Would you mind showing me where the bathroom is? I am afraid I have not yet grown accustomed to the layout of this house."

"Sure thing, Zee-vah."

Her brows knotted as he stood from his chair, his voice dwindling slowly on the syllables of her name. If he knew he was in trouble, he sure wasn't letting on. She trailed a swaggering, whistling Tony through the halls and wondered if he could feel her eyes boring into his back.

He turned, resting his lean frame invitingly against the open door. He gave her such a flawless, charming grin, a more naïve soul would have thought his hostility was erased and forgotten. He motioned for her to step inside. The room appeared so small for such a large house that it looked like a linen closet. _Ah_, a smile crept onto Ziva's face, _perfect_. _Sorry Tony_, she mused inwardly, meeting his grin with an even more sinister one of her own_, I'm not buying it._

The young man let out a muffled yelp as gorgeous, yet perfectly capable hands grabbed the color of his shirt and yanked him inside the bathroom. Shoving Tony hard against the back wall, Ziva flawlessly closed the door behind her with her foot. It snapped shut with a soft click.

Gosh, it had been awhile since she had been this close to him. His scent wafted before her face and she hated herself for sucking in a long draw of it in a motion that translated into something like a breathless gasp. Woodsmoke, cologne, laced with the hint of a sexy, spicy mint and "_What is your problem_?!"

She all but snarled in his face.

"I don't know, but I should be asking you the same question, David."

Tony's voice was poised with the same venom as her own. If it was she who had him pinned against the wall, then why for the next few moments was her voice trapped within her lungs? Their current position made it almost impossible to focus. Her knee between his calves, her hands fisted in the collar of his shirt, the heat pooling dangerously at the center of their bodies, right below her stomach…

Ziva sprang backwards, releasing him. It took only a few flustered moments before her fury melted into something like anguish. She crossed her arms, bruised eyes watching him. He was still leaning against the same spot where she had cornered him only seconds before. His eyes were closed, yet the rest of his face screamed tension. He looked so ravishing, his graceful figure disheveled, his light hair tousled. Her urge to kiss him, to devour his lips, was so great that it felt like a great, gasping sore. It made tears sting her eyes.

"Ziva…"

(((((())))))

**a/n: Okay, so I'm opting for the first cliffie right here, just because in regards with the next chapter, it fits in well timing wise. Also, I left it here on a pretty intense moment for Tony/Ziva. We're going to get into why they're acting so nastily towards each other at the beginning next time. **

**Interestingly enough, the scene in this chapter was like a mélange of POVs. Actually, it was a different tone of pace because you had all the characters together for one scene. –the dinner table-- so do you like where I'm going with this? Some good tony/ziva banter? Reviews are love =)**


	4. Four

**((((((Chapter 4))))))**

"Ziva…"

She turned from him, rejecting his conciliatory plea. How dare he pity her.

A fresh wave of anger roiled her blood, strangling her heart.

"So is this what we are now, Tony?" she spat. "We do not even call each other by our first names?"

"Well, is that the way you want it, David?"

His tone, even softer this time, halted her threatening disposition. Her posture loosened and Ziva grappled with her own voice.

"What I want is for you to tell me what this is all about."

"…What do you mean?"

He asked slowly and she was sure he feigned his puzzled tone.

She turned to face him, her eyes wild. Her strained voice teetered as she spoke.

"Well, do let me attempt to be more _American_ and put it bluntly for you. _Why—are you—being— such—a— bastard_?"

Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes in a very adolescent manner.

"Me?" he snapped back in her face. "You're the one who's been constantly going back and forth from 0 to bitch. It's like you freaking _developed split personalities_ over the—"

"Well I have every right to be a little bit upset. Care to explain to me why _you _ignored me for the entire spring?!"

At this, Tony let out a harsh splutter of laughter.

"Oh, like you don't know," he sneered.

"Enlighten me, Tony."

She was not going to back down. If he refused, she was not above beating the explanation out of him.

He drew back with a bitter smile, leaning against the wall again with crossed arms.

"Well," he began in a low voice, refusing to look at her. "It certainly was a cold winter."

As the realization dawned on her, it came with a small surge of triumphant incredulity.

"This is about Paris? Tony, I have been back three months. What does that have to do with anything?"

She gaped at him in clear disbelief.

"It's not a what, it's more like a who."

"Who?" Ziva's eyes narrowed.

"Christ, Ziva," his olive eyes were blazing, but Tony's voice just grew harsher, more wounded with every word. "Everyone knows it happened. Hooking up _dans la ville de romance_?"

"It is the city of _lights, _Tony—"

"I don't care what it's called, Ziva—"

Their locked eyes, both their chests heaving.

"Nothing—" it was a lie and she knew it. "—happened between me and Michael."

"Right, like I'm supposed to believe that," Tony snapped. "Locke was at your feet begging even before you left. Like you would have resisted."

"Are you calling me easy?!"

"Maybe I am."

"There is _nothing _between me and Michael. We are just friends."

Her voice was not bathed in denial, it was beseeching, pleading him to understand. She wanted the hard, anguished gleam in his eyes to melt. She wanted him to gather her to his chest and kiss her. And by the way his eyes raked longingly over her face, she was sure that at least part of him wanted to do the same.

"Really?" he countered darkly. "Because I never heard that from you. By the time you came back, I was sure he had convinced you otherwise."

"Tony…"

"You were chummy with Locke, so I thought it was best that I ignore you," he said coldly. "You never told me otherwise, so I thought that was what you wanted."

"Tony," Ziva found her voice gasping and weak. "How could you think…?" she had never realized until this moment how much he meant to her. The fighting, the indifference… Nothing was worse than the way he looked at her now. "We are—friends…yes?" she whispered, like it was him she was trying to convince. _"We are friends."_

His eyes narrowed, softened and then there was nothing left but damage. Void of anger, void of indifference, he was empty.

"Yeah…" he spoke tonelessly, countering her own choked voice. "Glad we got that straightened out."

Without another word, he brushed past her and out the door.

Ziva pressed her palms to the countertop, feeling her sobs billow in the column of her throat. How could this have happened? She had come here to win something, and although she wasn't sure what exactly that something was, it clearly was something dear to her. She knew she had learned something important about herself, yet Ziva felt as if she had lost everything.

(((((())))))

"Thank you so much Jethro," the master bedroom door fell shut. Jenny swept across the room, laying fresh bathroom linens on her dresser. She turned to her husband, who was lying across their bed, relaxing and enjoying his big screen TV. Her voice colored with sarcasm. "Your help cleaning up in the kitchen was much appreciated."

"Redskins preseason game, Jen," he offered innocently in explanation, eyeing his wife as she buzzed hurriedly around the room, preparing for the night. "First of the season. And besides, you had an extra pair of hands to help you clean up."

"And I can't believe you don't see a problem with that, Jethro," Jenny retorted, now rummaging through her dresser drawers, her back turned to him. "Ziva is our guest!"

"Well, sorry if I'm not accustomed to hosting dinner parties," he did not sound apologetic at all.

When Jenny turned her head to glare at him, he was again gazing intently at the television. He looked quite handsome, even she had to admit. She allowed herself a rather indecent thought, thankful that he couldn't see her flush in the dim light. His jaw was uncharacteristically slack and relaxed, his broad shoulders tight against the fabric of his shirt, and those damn cobalt eyes of his… But wait, her eyes narrowed and she scrutinized him. His jaw was just a little _too_ slack for her liking.

Even before the mighty NCIS agent could react, Jenny was on him and prying the remote from his hands. She squirmed from his grasp and pointed the remote, smiling triumphantly as she pressed the "last" button.

"Aha," she said slyly as he frowned at her. "I knew you were up to something."

She dawdled her gaze on his face for a moment too long and Jethro coughed, motioning toward the screen. Jenny turned and took her first good look at the screen. Blank. Completely dark. There was nothing to see except a little time meter tucked away in the corner, its numbers clicking away softly.

Jethro grinned a little smirk as he trounced what had been her apparent victory. She gaped at him.

"But I thought—I thought—" she paused and he deftly slid his answer in place.

"It could be."

She smacked him across the arm.

"Need to know, Jen," and she knew he wasn't going to budge.

Jenny sat up from the bed, grumbling under her breath something about "forced" and "marriage".

Jethro's eyes twinkled.

"Would you like a divorce?" he teased.

She ignored his joke.

"Get up," she demanded, her voice threatening. He looked at her. "Get up, Jethro. I meant it."

He frowned, and groaning, lifted himself reluctantly off the Queen-sized bed.

"Do we really have to do this every night?"

His complaint roused a little smile on her face. As they stripped the covers off the bed, Jenny threw him a suggestive look.

"Lacking stamina, Jethro?"

"Never, my darling wife," he grumbled, pulling apart the two twin beds so that there was a solid ten feet between resting places. "I just don't see why we have to go through the trouble every night…"

She threw his set of sheets and Jethro caught them between deft fingers. He paused, watching her curiously as she arranged her own bed. He had never known a woman as fastidious Jenny Sheppard.

"As long as Ziva is here, we should keep be sure to keep up appearances. There can't be anything suspicious—"

"So wouldn't it be easier if you just sucked it up and lied next to me for, what, two weeks?"

The words, a little too eager than he would have liked, spilled carelessly from his mouth. Even he found it difficult not to waver under her fierce glare, her gorgeous hazel eyes gleaming dangerously.

"No," she spoke softly and even that little noise rendered him intimidated. Not that he would show it, of course…

"Jen…"

"No," she answered sharply and that was all there was to it. "Now I'm going to bed and if the TV's not off in fifteen minutes, I'm going to be annoyed."

Jethro sighed heavily. This time she really had won and there was nothing he could do about it. Ah, the joys of marriage.

(((((())))))

**a/n: So I find myself, I don't know… I don't know if I'm entirely satisfied with the Tony/Ziva scene. I couldn't tell you why exactly, but I don't know if I accomplished everything that I set out to do. Ugh, its so frustrating when you can't even remember what exactly it was that you wanted to do in the first place! Ziva tried to be aggressive and just dug herself a bigger hole. But yeah, what did you guys think???**

**Hehe, the other scene was Jibbs. They are just so delicious to write. So… have any questions about them? I'm sure you do ;) Yes, we'll get into that situation… in a little while… Reviews are love! (Can I add something here? There's over 100 consistent visitors for each chapter of this and not a lot of reviews ******** . Although I'm thrilled that people are so interested, some feedback would really be delightful! =) Remember, a happy author writes faster!!**


	5. Five

**((((((Chapter 5))))))**

Ari Haswari often wondered what set apart Caitlin Todd from all his previous girlfriends. She was sexy, gorgeous in fact, just like others. She was a vixen between the sheets. She was quite smart, as well… Yes, perhaps it was the fact that she was indeed very clever. But not since he was a child, yearning for the touch of his deceased mother, had Ari experienced this type of longing. There was another person in his life that was an absolute necessity for his very existence.

The tilt of her smile was painted on his eyelids as he drifted to sleep, he would clutch her close to his body during the night, and would wake up before the sunrise just to try and memorize every detail of her content, sleeping face, nestled in the crook of his arm. She was the first woman he had ever welcomed into his bed and had woken up next to, fully clothed.

Perhaps it was also the fact, just like the young Israeli, that Caitlin Todd was a very early riser.

"What're you doing?" Ari murmured, his voice lagging with sleep. The sun was just creeping through the curtains and she was already awake and alert, seated cross-legged beside him on the bed.

Pencil scratched across paper, etching a comforting tone beside his ears and Kate offered a smile.

"Drawing you," she smiled slyly. "Hey," she added, prodding him back as he began to stir. "Don't you dare wreck that pose on me."

If it were anyone else, he would have had a pair of their teeth for telling him what to do, let alone swatting him across the chest. Instead, he grinned and Caitlin's eyes shimmered unspoken reimbursements for his cooperation to be paid the following night in hot, steaming fashion.

"How long have you been up?"

"Just a few minutes," she answered. "Now close your eyes and look like you're asleep."

His brows pulled together in a questioning manner, but her finger pursed his lips together with a delightful, pulsing pressure before he could open his mouth.

"Ari," she said with the softest smile. "Close your eyes."

He complied and mourned the loss of that lovely finger. He lay there, at peace with himself, listening to her murmurs of her breathing until his heart beat in unison and she was finished.

(((((())))))

_The city of Paris, France was unexpectedly chilly._

_Ever since her arrival, Ziva David had assumed the so-called 'City of Love' would hold proudly to its title, even in the throes of February, and maintain an at least pleasant, if not romantic mood of weather. Now, as she was greeted by a bitter, gusting wind on the second level of the Eiffel Tower, she was having trouble grasping any sliver of hope whatsoever. As the remaining weeks she would spend here dwindled to just mere days, the chances of spending an evening outdoors not being strangled by her scarf grew dreadfully somber. _

_She grimaced, recalling her father's chuckle as she groused her displeasure over the phone an evening some weeks ago. "It's Europe, darling." _

_If Eli David had not had such a naturally charming disposition, he would have simply said, "Well, what did you expect?"_

Well_, she mused inwardly, her tone as stinging as the slap of the wind against her cheeks, _I expected to enjoy my time here other than for the art, the food, and the history…. I expected this city to _actually be_ romantic… I expected to be able to forget about T—

"_Ziva," Michael Locke spoke beside her, his voice warm and snug, something she should have found soothing. "You look a bit cold. Sure you wouldn't you like my jacket?"_

_Instead, she only found his presence beside her constricting. _

"_No, believe me, if I had one more layer of clothing to myself I am afraid I would suffocate. And this is supposed to be the so-called 'City of Love'," she mimicked scornfully. "You think it could at least muster a bit of decent weather…"_

_His face flickered with amusement at her aggravation. He leaned his elbows over the railing, observing the beauty of the dusky Paris evening, and Ziva had to admit that he looked quite sharp in his jacket, his shoulders pressed and leaning the way they were. If he had been To—if he were someone else… Ziva would have called him handsome. _

"_Well, at least the Parisiens know better," he explained with a small smile while Ziva admired his flawless French accent. "To them, Paris is_ La Ville-Lumière—_the City of Lights. City of romance… that's just some tourist fabrication."_

"_Oh…" she said simply._

_After a moment, he sighed and Ziva could feel awkward crawling up and down her back. _

"_Listen, Ziva, about last night…"_

"_Locke, we don't have to…"_

_He faced her, his caramel eyes burning with a sudden fierceness. _

"_No," he spoke in a low, serious tone. "I think this is something I have to do…"_

_And then Ziva felt a firm warmth grasp her chin and his lips were sliding over hers, pulling and parting. His tongue traced patterns over her lips and it was making her dizzy. The wind threatened to slip beneath her, knocking her down and into his arms. There was a something building in her stomach and it was making her sick. _

_She broke the kiss as gently as she could. He was a good man, her friend, and she would try hard to spare his pride. _

_Her dark eyes said everything that words couldn't and he was the one to let her go. He was a good man and it hurt her sorely to see his eyes blazing with an ardent passion, a passion he now knew that she could not return. _

_Locke looked away, steadying himself on the railing. _

"_I don't get it, Ziva," he said, and she wished she could comb the shards of broken pride from his voice. "We've been friends for a long while now, and you've known my feelings for about just as long. And I mean, I wouldn't be so… all those times—you responded, Ziva!"_

_His tone was accusatory and she knew she deserved it. It was true and he was right._

"_I'm sorry…" was all she could say._

_He turned away, blistering with frustration. _

"_And you," he pointed at her with a finger now, his voice desperately harsh and wounded. "What about last night?" _

"_I wanted to see—" she fumbled to explain herself. "I hoped Locke, I truly did—"_

_This only seemed to infuriate him further._

"_Who is it?" he demanded, positively seething. "Is it that guy from the airport, Michael Rivkin?"_

"_No, he is a friend who I've known all my life—he was flying back to Israel to see his family. But it is not like that." _

_He stared at her now and Ziva could only hope he saw absolution. _

"_I'm sorry, Locke."_

_He looked away fleetingly, glancing out over the Seine. _

"_I should have known," he began, his voice throbbing with nothing but regret and certainly not forgiveness. "I should have known when you can't stand to even call me by my first name…" he let out a scathing breath of laughter and faced her once more. "We would be good for each other, Ziva. I only wish you could see that. See you on the plane flight home…"_

_He left, leaving her standing, and Ziva reached to her neck and unraveled her scarf, leaving her hair free to gust with the howling wind. She heard the elevator cables cringe and shriek, and knew that he was going down and out of her life. _

(((((())))))

"It is flawless," Ari murmured, admiring the drawing before stealing a glance at Kate. He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek.

"It's you," she explained, her eyes twinkling. "So of course, it would be."

Ari gazed at her a moment before he jumped out of bed, turning so she couldn't see the blush staining his cheeks. Blushing, ugh, he never used to do it until recently. It was a habit he must have picked up from Ziva. They both really spent too much time around these Americans. It was starting to take a toll.

"I have to stop by the store," he said. "Rivkin has some shipment that he'd like me to take a look at."

"Well, I'll come with you then," Kate decided, leaping off the bed.

"Oh? You're coming?"

He could barely thwart his own fear, suddenly jumping in his stomach.

"Yeah, why not?' she said with a nonchalant smile. "Mikey's a nice young man and I'd like to see how he's doing. And it's better than sitting around here doing nothing... Besides, I haven't talked to him that much since he returned from Israel. He went to visit family, didn't he?"

"Yes," Ari said weakly. "He has an ailing grandfather…"

She frowned sympathetically.

"Well, I'm going to get dressed… Is something wrong, Ari? You look a little pale."

The Israeli broke from his pensive look and smiled.

"No, of course not. Just feeling a little sorry for Michael. He really is close to his grandfather. Well then, you go ahead and get changed. I'll make some coffee for us both."

With one last tweak of his smile as she rounded the corner of the bathroom, his face fell. Ari stood in the kitchen, scrolling through the contacts on his cell phone. Coffee would have to wait for a moment. He dialed the name "M. Rivkin."

The young man on the other end of the line answered in the deep lilt of a foreign accent. Ari glanced once more toward his bedroom and turned away.

"Caitlin is coming," he spoke, low and urgent. "Hide everything."

(((((())))))

**a/n: =) I feel pretty pleased with this chapter, I really enjoyed penning the scene between Ziva and Michael Locke. Also, the plot thickens with Kate and Ari… hehe. Next chapter could quite possibly be in the same type of format, although, we will see a flashback with Tony, explaining what was going on with him while Ziva was in Paris with Locke. And maybe some Jibbs, as I know you all are intrigued by them. ;) A few people commented on Tony's drawing being a little OOC, but you know, would I be surprised if he did pick up a pen and sketch just to remember Kate now and then? Yeah, why not? They were certainly very close. And the next flashback scene with Tony, you will see exactly why I wanted him to be a little bit of an artist…**

**I'd also like to extend this already long author's note by saying thank you thank you thank you to everyone who responded with reviews. They were so lovely and heartfelt. I can only hope to receive your continued support and enthusiasm for each chapter to come. I'm so glad you all are enjoying this as much as I am! =) Reviews are love!**


	6. Six

**((((((Chapter 6))))))**

It had been a year and a half since Timothy McGee had begun "casually dating" Abby Scuito. Suitcase in hand, McGee glanced towards the seaside mansion with an apprehensive swallow and recalled the day that he had asked out Abby out on their first date.

A biting winter day in early January, McGee's afternoon had been transpiring perfectly normal and pleasant. Recently elected to the title of Deputy Editor in Chief of the school newspaper, McGee sat with his back against the foot of his bed. Brow furrowed in concentration, Tim was steadily typing edits on a rather troublesome article.

A loud patter of footsteps drummed in the hallway and there was a girlish giggle.

McGee glanced crossly at the door.

Living in Logan House for sophomore year… What could possibly be a worse dormitory?

"Oh, don't worry, Timmy," Abby had reassured him. "It's just the dorm where all the 'tools' live. What could be more fun than that?"

Fun? He swore it was Headmistress Sheppard's husband way of punishing him after he had witnessed Abby lay one on an unsuspecting, completely faultless Tim under the mistletoe at last year's Holiday Ball. Shivering, McGee still found it hard to shake the memory of that stare, those piercing blue eyes… God, that guy was scary.

The clatter of his door being slammed shut jostled McGee from his reverie.

A boy with honey-colored hair was skulking against Tim's door, looking anxious.

Anthony DiNozzo. Abby's cousin.

"Don't worry!" Abby's voice chimed in Tim's ear. "If worst comes to worse, you always'll have Tony living there with you."

Right. Tony. What a saving grace.

"What're you doing here, Tony?"

"Shhh!" he responded in an urgent whisper. "Keep quiet, McGoo!"

"Who're you hiding from?"

"No one, McGee, no one! Can't a guy just pay a friend a visit without any stupid questions?"

McGee rolled his eyes with an aggravated sigh and Tony shushed him again. Listening intently against the door, Tony did not look at all interested in having any type of visit with him. Sure enough, feminine voice cried out distraughtly: "Sweetheart, where did you go? I can't find you!" Tony winced and McGee's lips curled into a knowing smile.

"You're hiding from Jeanne? Isn't she—"

"McGoo!" Tony hissed.

Both boys relapsed into silence and a desperate Jeanne eventually wondered past them down the hall. Running a hand through his hair, Tony sighed in relief.

"Isn't she your girlfriend?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Then why are you hiding from her?"

"I want to break up with her," he said bluntly.

McGee frowned.

"Then why don't you just, uh, tell her that?"

"Oh, my dear McGoo," Tony grinned, chuckling with amusement. "There are much more entertaining ways of dealing with such business. For instance, I was thinking of hooking up with Nikki Jardine, you know that hot—"

"Yeah, I know her. She's in my Trig class and I'm not sure she would—"

"Don't be silly, McGenius, I've never known a woman that was able to resist the Dinozzo charm."

"Except Ziva," McGee smirked. "You're supposed charm doesn't seem to—"

A veil of darkness shrouded the gleam of the basketball player's hazel eyes and Tim knew he had said the wrong thing. McGee grimaced as Tony effortlessly knocked him back against the wall just hard enough so it hurt. Gone was the impish smirk, Tony's lips had flattened into a hard line.

"Listen here, Mc—"

"Honestly, Tony? I let you hide out in my room," McGee bargained. He winced as Tony gripped tightly to his elbows, his fingers pinching the skin.

"That's why I'm going to help you, McGoo," his voice dipped threateningly low. "Let's talk about you and Abby. Put both yourselves out of your misery and just ask her out, already.

"Tony—"

"Trust me, I'm not the only one who's sick of watching the two of you around each other. It's pathetic."

"Tony—"

"If you are not suctioning that black lipstick off her mouth by tomorrow afternoon McGee, I swear I will tell Gibbs that you were the one who hacked into Abby's computer and downloaded those photos—"

"But you put me up to that, Tony!"

"And it would be your word against mine. Jenny's my aunt, remember?"

"She's not really your aunt—"

"Have it your way, McGrumpy," the pressure on McGee's elbows swelled and he could already feel the ache of the bruises that were forming. "A _close_, family friend."

"ButTonyI—Imeansheshe—Idon'tknow—"

"Don't be a McGirl," he growled dangerously, staring hard into terrified blue eyes. McGee whimpered, recognizing Tony, but seeing the man they called Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Abby's father.

McGee, once released, immediately sunk to the floor, rubbing his arms gingerly. When he looked up, he saw one Anthony Dinozzo grinning the infamous smirk that girls found so charming.

"It's your choice, my dear McGoo," he said, leaning down close to McGee's ear with a confiding whisper. "I do hear from Jen, though, that Gibbs keeps all kinds of fun contraptions down in the basement for 'special cases' of Sunday Detention."

McGee shook his head from the memory. He could still hear Tony's derisive laughter ringing in his ears as he had scampered through the snow to arrive thoroughly drenched and shivering in front of Abby's dorm, pleading her to allow him if but just one date. He and Abby had been together ever since.

Tim heard the familiar squeal of glee before he saw his girlfriend's beaming face from the 3rd story balcony. He smiled to himself as Abby rushed down to greet him. Though Tony was still Tony, he had been partly responsible for bringing Abby and McGee together. He certainly wasn't the worst 'tool' Timothy McGee had ever encountered.

(((((())))))

_There is no place where social hierarchy is more prominent, or intense, than at New England boarding schools. There are two sides of the story, and they don't often mix._

_So when Anthony DiNozzo's gothic, eccentric cousin perched her chin on his shoulder, he wasn't sure whether he felt annoyed or relieved. _

_Met with the astonished gapes of his tablemates, the basketball star plastered a look of intolerance to his brow. Even so, Abby was so extraodinarily out of place amongst the faces of these coiffed, preppy legacies and the greasy, burly athletic scholarship students that he had to admire her boldness. _

_It had been a while since she had graced him with one of her impromptu visits. It had also been a while since he had sat in this section of the dining hall, Tony recalled with an inward frown._

"_Hi, Abby," he muttered from the corner of his mouth. _

_It took his cousin a moment to respond. She was busy smiling broadly at the unhappy faces circling round the table. _

"_So," she declared loudly next to his ear. Tony winced. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, announcing their conversation to the entire table. "This isn't awkward, like me being here, right?"_

_Tony couldn't decide whether he was going to die or keel over to the floor from laughing so hard. A little smile broke at his face as Abby waited expectantly for a response. _

_Finally, a girl from across the table gave a little cough, forcing a simpering smile across her lips as she said: _

"_Tony, who is this?" _

_He was about to reply when Abby positively smothered him. With an exaggerated gasp, she crawled over Tony, looking about ready to launch herself with enthusiasm across the table at the girl. _

"_You—!" Abby exclaimed in delight. "You must be _the Anti-Ziva_!" _

_Quite suddenly, something reared to life inside Tony's chest. A howling monster jarred awake, clawing at his insides and mauling them ruthlessly. Without even a word of dismissal or an apology to a reproachful looking Jeanne Benoit, Tony pried his cousin away from the table and dragged her to the back of the dining hall. _

_Assured that they were quite secluded amongst an assortment of drearily empty tables, Tony whirled around, spitting angrily. _

"_Abby, what the hell are you doing?" _

_A look of satisfaction flickered across her face at his outburst. _

"_Come on, Tony!" she punched at his arm playfully, doing nothing to dampen his seething face. "I just wanted to liven you up a little. You've been just so freaky weird lately— I mean, freaky weird even for me, because I'm pretty freaky myself, you know—seriously though, you've been hanging around that group, sitting at that table again, putting on that fake smile of yours, telling those jokes that annoy Zi—" she stopped dead at the gleam in his eyes and admitted softly: "I'm worried about you, Tony."_

"_Well, thanks for your concern, Abs," he said dismissively and crossed his arms, looking away. "But I'm fine."_

"_And also," she said quickly. "I wanted to tell you that McGee called and wanted to say Hi."_

_His hazel eyes immediately flicked towards hers and Tony hastened to restrain his curiosity. The feeling came coupled with a sharp prod of anguish. _

"_Whatever," he muttered and made to desert her. "Tell McGee I hope he's enjoying himself."_

_But a few steps away, Tony stopped. He turned around and faced his cousin once more. Not only did she have the power to read him like a book; the ability was mutual. He knew that look, when he could practically feel the anxiety jumping off her face—she was hiding something. _

"_What?" Abby squeaked._

_He approached her slowly, staring her down in an almost Gibbs-like manner. _

"_You're hiding something," he stated firmly. "You wouldn't have come over just to tell me that McGoo called. In fact, you haven't come over to visit me at that table in a quite while…"_

"_Well," she responded hotly. "You hadn't even been sitting at that table until Ziva—"_

_She stopped suddenly and her expression turned so wildly frantic that it seemed to launch itself off her skin and smack Tony across the face. She gasped and her eyes widened at the taboo that had so easily escaped her lips. _

"_What—about—Ziva?" he asked in a slow, deliberate tone. His eyes were burning and angry; Tony wanted to believe that was the only reason why his voice was shaking. _

"_She—I mean—not like—Okay, fine, McGee… he saw her together with Locke the other day…" she finished softly, almost an apology. _

_His throat clenched around the scream, (or was it a sob?), that was forming and clutched it tightly. The pressure struggled, prying itself away. It escaped and he could no longer chase it, it was leaking from every pore of his skin. He forced his blearing eyes away from Abby's face. Now it was not only his voice that was shaking…_

"_And?" _

"_He saw them… hooking up. I mean not like _doing-it_-_hooking-up_ but as in passionate embrace, l--," she stammered. "I-I wasn't sure if you wanted to know or not—but—"_

_Laughter spewed from Tony's mouth, leaving a trail of vengeful, wounded words. _

"_No, that's great," a harsh thrill simmered in his eyes. "Glad to hear that everyone is having such a fantastic time," he gave a menacing little smirk and whispered darkly: "_Vive la France_."_

_Moments later, with his cousin's fearful gaze pressing against his back, and a sly whisper into a foreign ear, Tony was parading back towards his room with Jeanne Benoit on his arm. If Ziva was living it up inside France, then so would he._

(((((())))))

**a/n: So, on an impulsive decision, I'm choosing to end this chapter here, although I already have more written. I just thought that last line was so delicious, I had to broadcast it primetime right here ;)**

**It's just so perfectly Tony. Impulsive, distraught, charged… I assure you there's more to this flashback. I'm not sure exactly when its resolution will come… but it should be next chapter. And yes, I can assure you, Tiva will be making an appearance, with an actual present time interaction, with them TOGETHER! I know, and I'm sorry, we haven't seen them actually together for a few chapters... Hehe. Reviews are love! =D What did you guys think?**

**PS: (sorry it took me an extra day to post, but even though this chappie is about regular length, there was actually more added to it before I decided to stop here and post…. Apologies!)**


	7. Seven

**((((((Chapter 7)))))))**

The first threads of morning sunlight laced through Ziva's drapes and poked at her eyelids. Her eyes opened, met with the patchy darkness of her bedroom. It was 5 AM and the young Israeli was already pushing herself out of bed. Tali had always laughed that her sister was "such a creature of habit."

Tucking her dark curls out of her face, Ziva slowly wandered down the staircase and into the kitchen. She stood leaning against the counter, anticipating the familiar gurgle of boiling water any second now. It had been a while since she had been able to enjoy morning tea. Ari, a devoted coffee drinker himself, did not waste space on anything so "useless" in his apartment, so she had beamed appreciatively at the sight of the cluster of teabags set on the counter the previous morning. Gosh, how she adored Abby.

Ziva curled onto a rather comfy couch in the living room, hitching up the pesky strap of her pajama top to her shoulder and taking a careful sip of hot tea. She opened a book on her lap, flipping through the pages but not really reading at all. Throughout her childhood in Israel, enjoying tea at dawn had become tradition. While the city of Tel Aviv slumbered, (and more importantly, the men of the house), it had been a quiet time of refuge between herself, her mother and sister. They could talk freely of anything they liked; family, men, politics, and even war were the most abused subjects. But since her companions were both… gone… Ziva now savored the alone time to herself.

A muffled creak from the staircase caught her attention. Surely she had not awoken Gibbs or Jenny?

No, because as a swooping sensation took flight in her stomach, Ziva was astonished to see Tony slinking in an uncharacteristically quiet manner down the steps. And though his dirty blonde hair was tousled messily, he was even already dressed. She wondered, observing him discretely, whether he was completely unaware of her presence or if he had seen her and was ignoring her altogether.

"You are up early," Ziva murmured hopefully, just loud enough so that he could assuredly hear her. She was sorely lacking of Tony and was in no mood to spar with him this morning.

He looked up quickly, startled at the sight of her. They had spent most all of yesterday ignoring each other coldly. But as the day dwindled, Ziva swore she had caught him glancing furtively at her. But nonetheless, it was the first time they had actually spoken since their confrontation in the bathroom. Something passed over Tony's hazel eyes, but he said nothing.

Her eyes followed him as he opened a small closet door and moments later, retrieved a bright yellow bicycle helmet. Ziva raised her eyebrows curiously.

"Going for a little ride, Tony?"

"Going for a bagel run, Zee-vah," he snuck her a glance, struggling to fasten the strap under his chin.

"It is a little early, no?" She pretended to study her book, chewing the inside of her lip as she awaited his response.

"Not if you don't want all the bagels to be gone."

She chuckled softly, turning a page.

"Surely this island has plenty of bagels, Tony," she looked up with a very coy smile. "Perhaps you are just wanting to—blast off some steam?"

Tony snorted with amusement. He grinned hugely, and at the sight of her baffled expression, could not resist bursting into laughter.

"What?"

"You know," he said, his voice crinkling. He stooped to tie his shoelace, but was enveloped by another wave of laughter. "I'm just getting this whole image of me as a whale, riding a bicycle, shooting up stuff into the air…"

"What?" she repeated exasperatedly, eyebrows crossed.

"Ziva," Tony said, finally resurfacing. "The term is 'blow off steam'— not blast," he added with a chuckle.

"Well," she huffed, though she could not bring herself to be any more annoyed than that. The sight of his grin was infectious.

"Well, _I _best be off," he said, standing. He tilted a full smile her way. "Only the best bagels for our special guest."

Tony and his still grinning face rounded the corner, gently exploiting the joke under his breath once more, and several moments later, Ziva heard the front door click shut. She rested her chin on the back of the couch, peering at him surreptitiously out the window. He began peddling and she thought inwardly: _Tony… as a whale… riding the bicycle?_ Not making any sense of it whatsoever, she quickly deserted the thought.

(((((())))))

The delightful smell of apple scones, fresh and sticky, wafted through the air and as the bell jingled cheerily beside his ears, Tony smiled. _Ahh, another one of my childhood haunts._ He watched the electronic train toot mockingly as it darted round the far corner of the ceiling, before scooting under the ledge into the back room, and disappearing from sight. Tony's lips curved with a reminiscent pleasure. Every time Auntie Jen had treated him and his sister to breakfast, the young little DiNozzo had found great amusement in barraging the train with spitballs. _Good times, _he chortled inwardly,_ good times._

"Ahh, if it isn't Anthony DiNozzo?"

Tony's face brightened at the sight of the young shop attendant leaning on the counter, his face alight with an impish grin.

"Hey ya, Pedro," Tony said warmly, returning the grin with a naughty enthusiasm. He clapped the Latino's back in a brotherly manner. "Long time no see, man! How's it been down on the island?"

"Ah well," Pedro said, curly black hair falling over his eyes. "Weather's been pretty all right, I guess. Just needing some of those summer tourists to start flocking down here. We're lacking in the lady department, my friend. Hardly any decent chicks have stopped by lately, you know?"

Tony chuckled with mock sympathy. Pedro was lean, a bit too skimpy for his age to be really called attractive, but he hit the ladies with just as much exuberance as any teenager with a y-chromosone.

"Don't worry," the boy with honey-colored hair boasted, a broad grin spreading across his face. "The DiNozzo is here for you. I'll rope a couple good ones in and then hand them off to you, my friend."

The Latino grinned toothily.

"Speaking of which, Tony," he whispered, leaning in confidingly. "Your couz brought in this girl with her the other day, and God let me tell you, she was like absolutely effing gorgeous. I was like, _damn_, I gotta get myself a piece of that—"

Here, Pedro, completely oblivious to the flush that was crawling dangerously up Tony's neck, began gesticulating just what exactly he'd like to do with "that piece" of Ziva. Slowly, Tony could feel the styrophome of his bicycle helmet cracking under the pressure of his nails, imagining that it was skin of Pedro's sun-kissed little—

"Exotic, dude, I gotta say it. She was just mad hot. I mean, the kind of hot where you feel it like, _everywhere_," the Latino grinned, smacking Tony's arm playfully and waited for his friend's assured approval. Instead, the boy with honey-colored hair stood rigid, his eyes glowering savagely, following the little train as it chugged its way around the restaurant. Pedro flinched, for Tony looked as if he'd love to rip that little train off the tracks and strangle it with his bear hands. He swallowed and had the nerve to suggest tentatively, "Think you could ya know, hook me up?"

"Somehow, I don't think it's a good idea, Pedro," Tony replied in a bristling voice. The styrophone gave an audible _crack!_ and Pedro jumped. "You see, Ziva… that girl… well she's already involved."

"Oh—" The hope in Pedro's voice sagged dejectedly and an urge to smile victoriously almost lifted Tony's lips. "She is?"

"Yeah," continued Tony pointedly, pretending now to examine something on his nails. "She's even, ya know—" the boasting DiNozzo smile returned here at full capacity. "Got a little thing for me."

Pedro frowned sourly and before Tony could even reply with another peppered little comment, a voice leapt startlingly from the shadows.

"Oh really, DiNozzo?"

His tone light and mocking with a steaming coffee in hand, that completely horrifying little smirk cast upon his mouth, Leroy Jethro Gibbs emerged from behind the counter. And both boys were absolutely mortified.

(((((())))))

**a/n: I'm sorry, everybody! It's taken like two extra chapters more than I originally thought to get to the end of Tony's flashback. Ughh... . Apologies! But, as I am sure (insert smug smile here) you all will be thrilled to hear that for a few chapters (this one included) there is going to be a rather abundance of TIVA goodies for you all. Yes, their relationship is going to move along quite steadily from now on. Next chapter, we will have a Jibbs scene with a little spicing of Tony now and there. Then, as promised, the conclusion of Tony's flashback. And from there, it'll be Tiva to the races… hehe… until the plot kicks back up again ******

**So, how much did you guys love Tony and Ziva's little humor scene? As well as Pedro? (The idea for the train came first and then I just ran with it, haha)**

**Reviews are love! If I can be bold… I'd love to set a goal for 40 reviews before I post the next chapter! =D**


	8. Eight

**((((((Chapter 8))))))**

Gingerly nursing the back of his smarting head, Tony sank down into the seat across from Gibbs. The boy with honey-colored hair watched as Pedro shuffled nervously up to their table, dropping a platter of scones in front of the pair before fleeing for the safety of the counter as quickly as he could. The Latino teetered behind his shelter, shooting Gibbs anxious looks every now and then.

"Something funny, DiNozzo?"

Gibbs stated severely as an amused smile drifted across the teen's face. Tony recoiled just in time to see Gibbs take a long drawl of his coffee, blue eyes leering from just above the rim of the cup. Coffee at 5:15 in the morning… that was early, even for Gibbs. _Not a good sign, DiNozzo…_

"No, of course not."

The silver-haired man gave a pointed look towards the platter of appetizing scones.

"Are you going to have a scone, DiNozzo?"

"No…" Tony replied uneasily. "Well…"

"I want to talk to you," said Gibbs. "And I'd rather have you stuff your face before and not during the conversation."

"Uh…"

"How well do you know Ziva David?"

Oh god… They were going to have a man-to-man talk about his behavior toward Ziva. _I bet Jenny put him up to this._

"Erm, kinda well, I guess."

"From what I've seen lately I'd of never have guessed this, but Abby's told me that the two of you are quite friendly."

Gibbs took another long sip of coffee here and Tony managed to hedge evasively, "Yeah, we're friends. Look, you gotta understand. I know you're pissed, but its just guy-talk, Uncle G, I swear it's—"

The silver-haired man unleashed a glare of murderous passion on his flustered nephew.

"Sorry," Tony squeaked. "Sorry, Uncle G—I-I mean, boss—Gibbs!"

Slowly, Gibbs leaned back in his seat as Tony squirmed under his withering gaze. His lips gathered into a small smile, his cobalt eyes dancing with amusement.

"Have a scone, DiNozzo," he suggested patiently and Tony hastily snatched a scone from the platter.

_I hate this. I hate this. I hate when he does this. _ As Gibbs pretended to be interested in the wall clippings, the teen, munching fretfully on the tasty scone, eyed his Uncle. _God, Jen, could you have married a scarier guy?_

Finally, Gibbs took another sip of coffee, still observing the wall decorations with apparent interest.

"Does Ziva ever talk about her family with you, Tony?"

Tony paused in mid-chew, confusion muddling his face.

"Sorta, I mean, not really. She's mentioned her father a couple times, who's apparently got some serious cash, but—"

But Gibbs was no longer paying attention.

The bells on the door chimed merrily and a woman with flame-colored hair stalked inside the bistro.

"Hello, Ms. Shepard," Pedro greeted warmly. "Welcome back to J&J's. Haven't seen you in a—"

"Is my husband in here?" Jenny Shepard demanded, her voice grating viciously on the word '_husband._'

Pedro's voice tottered with fright, his eyes darting over to where Gibbs and Tony were seated. Moments later, Jenny was bulleting straight for them. She halted, observing Tony crumb caked face, and frowned disapprovingly. Tony gave her a weak smile.

"Oh lord," she muttered, before rounding on Gibbs. "Jethro, I need to speak to you."

Gibbs continued to ponder the wall decorations with a now jarring interest.

"Right now, Jen? Because I'm kinda in the middle of some—"

With a harsh yank, Jenny pulled her husband from his seat and dragged him towards the women's bathroom. Tony raised an eyebrow, smiling wolfishly.

_Angry sex?_

_(((((())))))_

_Sex, no matter the kind, was what Tony called a 'give and take operation'. _

_Okay, whatever, that was what _Jen _had called it. Upon Kate raiding and finding a pack of condoms in his school luggage_—"Jen, I swear, seriously, they're only, uh… a precaution!"_—the young man had fidgeted and sweated through a thorough family discussion of the subject. _

'You're young and inexperienced, Tony. It's important not to rush into anything…'

'Make sure you're ready. If you can't talk about sex with your partner, then you're surely not ready to have it…'

_(This next one was added with an absolute death glare from Gibbs)_

'And most importantly, never do it just for the sake of _having a good fuck, _DiNozzo_.'_

'At least not until college, anyway_…'_

Kate's absent-minded addition to the discussion made Jenny's face match the color of her hair, throwing her niece an entirely scandalized look.

_But now, waiting and biding his time, as his family had suggested, seemed completely overrated, and totally not even an option. _

_Heartbreak and hormones were freshly spilled beneath his feet and could he really be blamed if he "accidentally" slipped up and rushed into something? _

_So what if he had just snatched an old girlfriend from the Dining Hall without a word and practically tackled her upon arriving in the Common Room? _

_So what if he wasn't following Gibbs's advice?_

_After he was finished with Jeanne, he could lie satisfied in the sticky wet patch of his bed and only then realize that Gibbs was going to kill him… _

_Jeanne Benoit. Right. His ex-girlfriend. Slinky form, jewel-like blue eyes, and a simpering, glossy smile. Totally the perfect DiNozzo girl. …Right._

_She melted with a moan against him, and he clutched her roughly to his body, his eager mouth sliding over her shoulders and lower… He was feverish and frustrated and she responded in the most engaging, inviting ways. She grinded her lower body against him, raking her fingers across his stomach. Come on, who could blame him when she did stuff like that?_

_Tony closed his eyes and let Jeanne have her way for a moment. He was standing in a softly lit room with European décor, the bed sheets tousled and warm with a lingering heat… Was he supposed to be here…?_

_But now, all coherent thought escaped his mind as a girl rose from the bed. God, was she lovely. Finally, she was looking at him as if he was the only thing she could see, and Tony could feel nothing except the hopeful throbs of his heart. Ziva was in his arms and his blood sang her name gleefully throughout his veins. _

"_Tony…"_

_Hm. Weird. Europe had apparently made Ziva lose the lilt of her foreign accent._

_Her breath fanned across his mouth. And this had changed as well. Gone was the aroma of vanilla and coffee. Her breath now dripped of silky liquor. Well, the French always had drunk a little too much wine… _

"_Baby… please…"_

_WOAH. Okay, seriously? He knew without a shred of doubt that Ziva absolutely hated pet names. He was taking her back to America right now, whether she liked it or not. The French had definitely been a bad influence on his ninja. _

_Tony removed his face from her hair and, with a mocking smile, opened his mouth to tell her exactly so. _

_But no… Ziva was not here. He stood back in his dorm room, holding some other half-naked girl, who was absolutely not his ninja. Ziva was still in Paris, probably carousing about the town with Michael Locke before retiring to their bedroom and oh God … This. Was. Wrong._

_Disgust soiled in his mouth and even Tony DiNozzo could not manage the tact of a charming smile. _

"_Get out."_

_(((((())))))_

_In._

_Out._

_In. _

_Out. _

_In…_

_Out…_

_Breathing. It was a lot like sex, wasn't it?_

_Natural, delicate, simple… A necessity. _

_Sex, especially to a teenage boy, should be easy. A reflex. _

_Come on, he was Anthony DiNozzo. Having sex—being extremely talented and experienced at sex was expected of him, right?_

_And for all his life, Tony had lived up to what was expected of him. Barely passing classes, hooking up with cheerleaders, stealing his father's vodka from the liquor cabinet… All that was checked off long ago. _

_Tony had seen the plan of his whole life drawn out in front of him. Graduate and get the hell out of prep school, play College Basketball, live it up at the inner-city frat parties, taste the thrill of hot, meaningless sex…_

_Until he had come here._

_Three years ago, that perspective had changed. _

_Those once concrete expectations? Completely gone._

_Because for a while now, all Tony could see was Ziva._

_And… if Ziva was somehow no longer there, or if he tried to force her presence from his thoughts, no matter what direction he tried, kegs of beer and bong shots were no longer even an option._

_Without Ziva, everything was dark and dead._

_And with this news from Paris, that's exactly what Tony's reality had come to. _

_(((((())))))_

_Thousands of miles across the Atlantic, two hearts fell wounded and sore. Mingling wine and blood, drumming an aching litany… These owners of limbs and lips were far and apart, here and now, and each unaware that all the while, through the anguish, they beat in tandem._

(((((())))))

For most couples, being thrust by your partner into a public restroom signified a fervent and passionate, if yet somewhat kinky, relationship.

Right. Let's emphasize—_most couples._

Jethro Gibbs didn't even need his famous gut to know that this was a very, very bad sign. He could see the steam clouding Jenny's eyes and unfortunately, its cause was nothing of a sexual nature.

She left him with a nasty shove and shrunk hastily away to the far corner of the room, as if she was disgusted at the thought of being any closer to someone so despicable.

Jethro straightened himself coolly, appearing even more relaxed just because he knew his indifference pissed the hell out of her. Come on, this little quarrels were kind of fun!

She turned slowly, her green eyes bulleting angrily towards his face.

"I spoke to my father this morning."

Jethro gave a curious smile, raising a silvery brow.

"Interesting conversation, I take?"

"_Very_," she hissed darkly.

She paused here, holding her glare. Jethro tapped his watch, leaping effortlessly into the thick silence.

"Come on Jen, there's hot scones waiting—"

"I _don't_ find this funny Jethro, so wipe that god damn smirk off your face."

Now she had his attention. His eyes hardened pensively. What in the world was this about?

"I don't appreciate the fact that no one seems to divulge any information to me at all these days," she snapped. "Not even you."

"Jen, I'm not sure—"

"Don't tell me you don't know what this is about, Jethro!" she was shrieking now, her eyes glistening and wild. "I'm sick of the evasive answers, the lies."

He gripped her wrist tightly, forcing her to slow down.

"Nobody has been lying to you, Jenny!"

"Bull," she replied, her low voice cracking unsteadily. "This morning, my father let it slip the name of the agent who has been sleeping with Ziva's half-brother, Ari. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Look, Jen, Kate can take care of herself—"

"This is not just about Kate," she snarled. "She's Tony's sister, your favorite agent, Jethro. You would not send her into something like this unless… unless matters were very serious."

Jethro's frowned deepened and he gripped her arm tighter.

"This is NCIS, Jenny. _All_ matters are very serious."

She took in his words, finding no avenue for answers whatsoever. Eyes narrowing tightly, her voice cut harshly across his face.

"I assure you no matter how serious it is, I can handle it."

Jethro spoke rigidly, his cobalt eyes piercing hers.

"Need—to—know."

With a splutter of mingled fury and frustration, Jenny thrashed and freed herself from his grasp.

"_I want a divorce_."

Her bitter words, more hurtful than he would have ever imagined, stung like a slap against his cheek. The calm and cool smile vanished from Jethro's face. Gone was any trace of amusement. This was no longer just a quarrel.

"Well, you should have mentioned that to _daddy_ on the phone when you had a chance."

His words rose and fell, and then settled into someplace pulsing and awful. With one last vindictive look of fury, Jenny stalked from the room, slamming the door behind her as she went.

(((((()))))

**GOD YES. Finally! This chapter is complete. It was certainly a struggle. I rewrote that with Tony/Jeanne countless times because it just didn't seem to be coming out right… Now, it's ok… but definitely not my favorite flashback. I think Ziva's scene with Michael Locke is better. IDK, I think I write Ziva better. Or easier, at least. Tony is so different! Well, the part in his flashback about breathing, sex, and expectations—that part I liked. **

**And you'll notice, back in chapter 4, there was actually a mistake in the version I posted. I think Jenny or Gibbs… not sure which, lets Kate's name slip in one of their conversations. Which is not supposed to happen. But I went and fixed that. Just a little continuity thing… bear with me! **

**Sorry this took so long to post. I just worked extra hard on it, hehe! I hope its satisfactory! Tell me what you think! Reviews are LOVE!**


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